


I Want Everything

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Erotica, Friendship, Hogwarts Era, The Quidditch Pitch: From Diagon Alley to Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-11
Updated: 2007-06-11
Packaged: 2018-10-26 10:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10785237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Hermione finds herself sharing a three man tent with her two best friends.What's a girl to do?Featuring Jealous Ron.





	I Want Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

**I Want Everything.**

**By alloy.**

A moment in the Horcrux quest…

The tent was small and cramped; Ron and Harry had raised it hurriedly as the weather front had approached.  

Now Hermione found herself sitting opposite the two young men, their feet on either side of her, and her feet between them.

She was uncomfortable.  

This was the first time they had shared the tent, the first opportunity really, and Hermione hadn’t realized quite how small it could be when occupied by Ron and Harry.

At least it was dry. Outside the wind was howling, and there was a persistent patter of rain against the fabric of the tent.

There was no privacy.

It wasn’t as if Hermione didn’t trust the two men. Indeed she trusted them with her life and virtue, but fact of the matter she was a young female in a very confined tent with two young males. It was going to be awkward.

There was nothing for it. Without preamble Hermione slipped her left arm out of her sleeve. She undid the clasp between the cups of her bra and slid her arm out of the strap. She shrugged and extracted the bra out of her right sleeve.

Much better.

As casually as she could, she placed the bra on her backpack. Ignoring the warmth of her own blush she glanced up at her companions.

Harry had his face buried in a book that he had hastily extracted from his own bag. Unfortunately, the book was upside down.

Ron on the other hand was staring at her intently. His ears and face a bright Weasley pink. Hermione felt her own blush deepen.

“Um…” Ron cleared his throat. “Um…Is that from Marks and Spencers?” he said.

Before she could analysis his query he continued.

“My dad took me to Marks and Spencers once.”

Hermione nodded, she felt her own blush gradually start to fade.

“He wanted to buy one of those for Mum’s birthday. He’d seen an advert you see about…” Ron cupped his hands in front of his own chest, “About push up ones.”  

Hermione smiled. The last person in the world who needed a pushup bra was the amply endowed Molly Weasley.

Ron was bright red now, but stoically he continued. “Problem was Dad didn’t know what size Mum was. Kept on saying to one saleslady, ‘Well she’s about your size, you know, not lacking or anything,’ and this woman was glaring at him and I was about nine, you see, and I couldn’t understand why Mum couldn’t just adjust it with magic. Dad was telling me to keep quiet and the ladies were going on and on about my sweet fantasy….” Ron’s voice trailed off. “It’s a bit of a silly story.” He cleared his throat again. “So I was just wondering you know…”

Behind his book Harry stifled a chuckle and Ron shot him a glare.

Hermione smiled; the image of little Ron and his father in her minds eye, driving her own embarrassment away.

“Thank you, Ron. That was a very sweet story.” She picked up her bra and automatically glanced at the label. “This one is from Marks and Spencers.” She held the bra out so that Ron could see the label “See.”

The sound that emerged from Ron’s throat sounded like he was choking, and only then did Hermione realize what she was doing. Hurriedly she shoved her undergarment into her bag.

“I’m not a pervert,” said Ron, more to himself than anyone else. “My mum wears them, and my sister.”

“But not your girlfriend,” Harry chirped from behind his book, “At least not right now.”

Hermione glared at Harry, and Ron turned toward him punching his arm.  

Deep inside Hermione was waiting for those horrible words.  

“She’s not my girlfriend.”  

While it was true that she and Ron had grown closer since his horrible seventeenth birthday, and even more so since Dumbledore’s death, they still hadn’t formalized their relationship. He had asked her formally to escort him to his brother’s wedding, and had danced almost exclusively with her the entire evening. He had even kissed her goodnight, chastely, a peck on her lips that had lingered almost as much as her confusion.

“Apologize, Harry.”

“What? Come on, mate, I was only joking.”

Ron hit Harry again. “Apologize.”

“What’s with you, mate?” Harry replied. “Hermione, you know I was joking right?”

Hermione did, but there was something in Ron’s manner that had quite stolen her voice.

“Do you think it’s easy, Harry, to share this tent with a pair of smelly gits like us.”

Harry nodded. He seemed that he too was taken aback by Ron’s sudden anger.

“Look mate, I’m sorry…”

“It’s not very private in here is it, Harry? In fact it must be down right humiliating.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Not to me, Harry! To Hermione.”

Deep down, very deep down Hermione was tempted to see what Ron would do. He had already punched Harry twice, the second time much more forcibly. Would he really fight Harry over this? She couldn’t allow it.

“Ronald.”

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry interrupted her. “I was out of line.”

Again that faintest, deepest part of her wondered what would happen if she refused Harry’s apology.

Hermione suppressed that thought mercilessly.

“Apology accepted, Harry.” She turned to the red head. “Now stop it, Ronald.”

Ron grunted and turned toward his bag pulling out a blanket. “This rain’s not going to let up,” he said. “We had all best get some sleep.”

In silence they each prepared their makeshift beds; Ron in the middle, with Harry and Hermione on either side of him.

They muttered their goodnights and Hermione turned away from the boys, facing the wall of the tent.

A small smile crossed her face. At some level, the thought of Ron fighting over her had excited her. She had been at once both repulsed and intrigued at the notion. Attracted at a primal instinctual level to the controlled aggression Ron had exhibited. The smile remained on her face as she drifted into sleep.

It was bitter cold when Hermione woke; her legs especially were aching from the cold and she shifted uncomfortably trying not to wake her companions. Then she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

“Alright?” Ron whispered.

“A bit cold,” she replied.

“My blanket’s warmer than yours,” Ron said, “Big enough for two.”

Even as Hermione’s mind evaluated Ron’s offer, her shivering body made a decision and she found her back nestled against Ron’s chest.  

‘He’s like a furnace,’ she thought. Of their own volition, her knees bent and her feet wedged themselves between Ron’s calves. ‘Divine.’

Ron threw an arm over her; his hand coming over her stomach touching bare flesh where her shirt had ridden up.  

“Ok?” Ron asked.

“Yes,” she murmured, acutely aware of him now, of where his body was touching hers, of his hand, of the heat radiating out from it flowing through her body.

Hermione forced her breath to even, to shallow, her body to relax. She couldn’t sleep, not with his hand resting against her bare flesh. She hoped that any shivers Ron might feel he would mistake for the cold.

“I love you, Hermione.”  

Ron’s voice was so faint that even with her ears so close to his lips she could barely hear him.

“I want more than a girlfriend. A lot more. But I haven’t anything to offer you.”

It always amazed her how he couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see the love and warmth he radiated to all those around him.  

Ginny had confided in her once, how she had missed Ron once he had gone to school, how empty the Burrow had seemed in that year. How jealous she had been of Harry and especially Hermione in her first year at Hogwarts, how that loneliness and despair had led her to Tom.

Hermione would never forget the look on Fred and George’s faces when Ron was poisoned; a haunted look that had sent a shiver down her spine, as if the joy had been sucked out of her world.

Then there was her own estrangement from him; the winter of discontent when some days she felt as if a Dementor had already claimed her soul.

Firmly she grasped his hand. “Don’t be an idiot, Ronald,” she whispered and she felt him stiffen behind her. “You have everything to offer me.”

With a deliberateness that belied her rapidly beating heart, she brought his hand up to cup her breast.

_“I want everything.”_

 

Fin.


End file.
